


Sunday brunch and guns

by OFSA



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, I literally tried for as many cameos as I could throw into like 1200 words, but like not important, mafia au-ish, no beta we die like men, technically in a coffeeshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 15:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20212033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OFSA/pseuds/OFSA
Summary: Sakura opens a restaurant in an unassuming town square right across from the old bell tower church.She also opens a restaurant in the middle of neutral territory between four different family factions and almost starts a clan war during Sunday brunch.





	Sunday brunch and guns

**Author's Note:**

> Wassup this has been sitting in google docs collecting dust for a fat minute but here we are. Oneshot for now cause honestly theres been absolutely zero planning into makin' this a story.
> 
> I'm also pretty sure I had a wildly different premise in my head when I wrote this like a year ago but since when has anything I've written gone to plan?

When Sakura opens her storefront on Birch street, she doesn’t expect to stare down a gun barrel in the first week of opening. 

The store is nestled on the corner of the city block, and a small church sits diagonally. On the two other corners lie a small local book store and gardening business. She doesn’t pay much mind to the rapid gentrification that seems to only extend around her in a one block radius; there’s a college and higher class residential area that acts as her main demographic but this location was much cheaper than any of the surrounding area. 

The first few days of business are slow; advertising isn’t her strong suit, and Sakura hoped that word of mouth would spread news of her store. Three days into opening, and the church goers file out, dressed in their finest and headed to the various shops surrounding the area. A few peer curiously into the glass windows, glancing at the signs before walking in, and soon enough Sakura’s running around, handling transactions from the variety of clientele. 

She’s treating a family of four, all black haired and pale, when the chiming of bells signals another guest entering the store. She smiles at the man before moving onto another family, these loud and talkative. One of the sons, there’s four at this table too, waves his hand around, revealing tribal tattoos hidden beneath the church clothes. 

“Oh, did you get those done next door?” Sakura asks, trying to build a rapport with the patrons. The business beside her runs a tattoo parlor, and while she’s only nodded at the man sitting in the front, she plans on talking to him at some point.

The volume in the store suddenly decreases, and the loud man quiets, staring at her for a moment before shaking his head. 

Mood effectively killed, Sakura moves away, walking back to the man who just entered the shop. 

“Hello,” she says, stopping a little in front of him. “Sit wherever you’d like.”

The man, who had previously been staring intently at the walls, slides his gaze back to her, but makes no effort to move. 

Just as things are about to get awkward, he speaks. “Who are you affiliated with?”

The shop was already fairly quiet, but now it’s dead silent. Sakura frowns, and brushes a stray strand of hair out of her face. 

“Um, no one?” She says questioningly. 

“It was an easy question miss,” the stranger says, now seemingly towering above her. “You might be in neutral space but you still need to put your sponsor up”

Now she’s even more confused and slightly scared. She tugs down on her sleeve, and the man’s gaze snaps to the carnation outline she has tattooed on her wrist. 

A rustle of movement is the only warning Sakura has before the barrel of a gun is pointing six inches away from her nose. All around her, chairs are toppled over as other people pull out their own guns, and suddenly there’s more firearms in the building than people and Sakura is sitting in the middle of it. 

“You’re not a Yamanaka,” he says, seemingly ignoring the guns all around. “So why you pretending to be one?”

Sakura at this point is completely terrified, and she barely hears the black haired man speak. 

“Like you said, this is neutral territory,” he says, walking slowly towards them. “So you might want to put that away.”

“She’s impersonating us; that’s enough reason to pull it out.”

The other boy, the one with the tribal tattoos walks forward now. 

“No its not, and everyone in here knows it.” He gestures to the other people in the store. “Now get your trigger happy self out of here before something bad happens.”

The man seems to give a begrudging look around before deciding whatever fuss he’s made isn’t worth it. Without saying another word, he holsters his gun and stalks out of the restaurant. 

It only takes a few moments for the environment to return to normal, patrons righting their chairs and sitting down as if there wasn’t a Mexican standoff approximately thirty seconds ago.

Sakura is standing in the middle of her store, a feeling of complete disconnect with the environment. Someone pokes her arm, startling her back to life, and she turns to face the man with the tribal tattoos. 

“You really have no idea what’s going on, do ya?” He asks, gently sitting her down at one of the tables. The volume of the restaurant is quiet, enough so that Sakura knows all the other patrons are listening in. 

She shakes her head, still in shock. 

“The block around this church is neutral territory to all the families that are set up here. We’re all tentative allies but things are still pretty volatile.”

Sakura stares at him disbelievingly before finding her voice again. 

“You mean families like…” she trails off for a moment. “... families like the mafia?” 

She says it incredulously, like its a joke that she’s missing the punchline of.

Instead the man only nods, and begins pointing. “I’m Kiba, part of the Inuzuka clan. The pale black haired ones are part of the Uchiha’s, and the man that jumped on you was a Yamanaka.”

Sakura feels like she should be giggling at the absurdity of the whole concept if it weren’t the fact that she can see the twin gun holsters on Kiba’s hips.

She looks at the patrons with new eyes, now noticing how everyone is carefully grouped off. She originally assumed it was just familial relations but now she can see that it goes beyond that. 

“Sasuke, one of the Uchiha, is the other guy that intervened,” Kiba says, pointing to the man who had now returned to the table with his family. He shrugs while making a gesturing motion to the whole restaurant. “Ya might wanna hide flower stuff. They represent the Yamanakas, but that’s why you got the trouble. Normally we’re not that high strung.”

Sakura can only give a small nod, looking at all the flower decorations she put up in her restaurant. “Do I need change my tattoo?” She doesn’t pull her sleeve down, too scared after the first time, but Kiba leans over to look at her arm. 

He gives it a critical look. “Changing your tattoo might not be the worst idea, but long sleeves will work just as well.”

Sakura gives a serious nod and makes the executive decision to throw out all her short-sleeved outfits. 

Kiba gives her a grin before standing back up. “Now just don’t go impersonating any other groups like that.”

The smile he’s wearing has a slight edge to it, and Sakura feels dumb for forgetting just what someone with two guns was doing, even if it was for just a moment. She manages to mutter out something that’s both a thank you and dismissal, and quickly stands to start working tables again.

She carefully does not look anyone else in the eye. 

After the lunch rush, Sakura flips the store sign to closed, ignoring the hours posted, and barely manages to stumble her way into her studio the floor above. She collapses onto her futon and stares off into space. Shock had gotten her through the rest of the day, and it felt like only now the day’s earlier events were hitting her full in the face. 

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”

**Author's Note:**

> Please drop a review if you enjoyed the story!


End file.
